


Last Supper

by indefensibleselfindulgence



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Blood Drinking, M/M, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 08:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16425926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indefensibleselfindulgence/pseuds/indefensibleselfindulgence
Summary: It really is the absolute least he could do.





	Last Supper

**Author's Note:**

> uh yeah
> 
> this is off of the netflix series 
> 
> not beta'd

  
“You called?”   
  
He's in his study again, staring at the hearth. Isaac has a hard time remembering him anywhere else, as of late. Dracula is tired, and Isaac understands.   
  
He did not have the pleasure of meeting the wife, but her portrait watches over them even now. He suspects Dracula spends the most time here because his wife watches over him. Isaac glances at the painting and its eyes radiate warmth. Did Dracula paint it himself? Did he find some master to do it for them, like the family portrait Isaac walked passed sometimes?   
  
“Yes. Come here.” He goes, of course, he goes. “They will be here soon.”   
  
His generals, yes.   
  
Dracula has not spoken fondly of them, and Isaac can only assume there is nothing to be fond of.   
  
Isaac got there first. And he was pleased to do it. He liked the castle, he liked the cold and the dark and the presence of his friend by his side. He was given a room not far from Dracula's own and that filled him with something akin to pride. This entire war filled him with happiness. Happiness that his friend trusted him so much.   
  
“Arrangements have been made, you don't need to worry over anything.”   
  
“I'm not- I trust you.” Isaac smiles.   
  
“Is there something you need now?” Dracula turns his head just so, and the light of the fire catches his eyes.   
  
“I-” He sighs with his entire body, as he's become want to do. “I grapple with if this is appropriate or not. If it would be an affront to you, Isaac.”   
  
The thought crossed his mind, of course. After the first time they met, the notion of a physical relationship stayed with him for a few nights. He's not a fool to confuse kindness for interest, but Dracula was a wall of a man, and Isaac was only human after all. Even the knowledge of the wife didn't assuage those thoughts. He does not feel as guilty as he probably should, even with the portrait staring at them both.  
  
“I doubt anything you ask would be an affront to me.” The way the light of the fire bounces off of white skin is fascinating. Isaac could stand at his side for hours watching the flames dance on his skin.   
  
“If it is, don't trouble your self. Hector will be here soon, and I would be fine waiting.”   
  
There wasn't a lot of conversation about the other human. Dracula mentioned that he was odd and gentle and that was enough for Isaac to understand the extent of him.   
  
“I won't know until you ask, my friend.”   
  
Dracula smiles and tilts his head again, a sliver of neck peeking out of his long cloak.   
  
“It always feels awkward asking.” He says quietly. Isaac waits, content to watch whatever this side of him is in the firelight.   
  
“If I promise to not be offended-”   
  
“I've gone two years without blood, Isaac. I fear I will need strength to put up with my generals. And you are...”   
  
Ah.   
  
“Of course, my lord. It is already yours.”   
  
Two years.   
  
How amazing.   
  
“Thank you, Isaac.” He reaches over with his left hand to catch Isaac's right, long nails digging into skin, before bringing Isaac's hand to his lips. They're softer then he thought they would be. And colder. He doesn't know why he's surprised by the cold and he must jump a little because he feels Dracula's lips curl into a smile.   
  
“Of course, my lord.” He echoes and waits. He's been curious about the sensation, but he assumes most people are nowadays. At least partially.   
  
Dracula's teeth sink into his skin with the sound of tearing flesh. Isaac thinks he can feel them scrape against the bones in his wrist, but the pain itself is minimal- something about blades being too sharp to sting comes to mind. At some point, Dracula's eyes close. Claws twist his arm around until Dracula is comfortable with where it is, and even if he has to contort his body to accommodate the position, he doesn't mind.   
  
He can see Dracula's throat move while he drinks from him. His fingers feel cold, numb, maybe, and he can't tell if it's from the grip or the blood loss. But he's used to blood loss, and he can learn to get used to the grip.   
  
If he can help his friend like this, if he can Feed his friend, he can be happy.   
  
He is happy.  
  
After a few minutes, Dracula's fangs leave his hand, and he watches the two pinpricks close up like nothing ever happened.   
  
“Do I taste good, my friend?” Dracula hasn't released his hand, and when his eyes open, they're red. “That good, even?”   
  
Dracula doesn't say anything, doesn't move, so Isaac stills and waits. Minutes pass in silence while Dracula stares into the fire and Isaac stares at him.  
  
“Yes, Isaac.” He lets go, and Isaac rolls his shoulder.   
  
Isaac wonders if he fed from his wife. He must have, surely. His son did, at the least. Once, in his infancy. Dracula told him the story with such fondness in his voice that Isaac's heart hurt for him. Adrian had been a child, and he had been teething so he latched on to his mother and they couldn't get him off for an hour.   
  
The wife almost fainted.   
  
Isaac wouldn't have.   
  
“If you ever hunger again-”   
  
“I won't.” He says with more determination Isaac has heard from him in a while. “That was the last meal I will have.”   
  
And there's something beautiful about that.   
  
Being his last supper.   
  
“I understand.”   
  
“Thank you.” He says. “For understanding. For coming here. For everything, Isaac. For your blood, especially.”   
  
Isaac touches where Dracula's mouth was and tries to remember the sensation.   
  
“Of course. What kind of friend would I be if I did not help when asked?” Dracula's lips are still stained crimson, and the color makes them stand out even more than usual. He is beautiful in his power. In his hunger. “If you need anything else-”   
  
“I know who to ask, don't worry.”   
  
He never does.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> comments are always encouraged and very very very appreciated
> 
> [ come talk to me ](http://iamalivenow.tumblr.com/)


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